Typo Imp
by Eymbyr
Summary: THE TIME HAS COME, the walrus said, to talk of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax - Of cabbages and kings.. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings...
1. Default Chapter

Part 1  
Neo sat up straight in his cot. His dark hair was in a matted mess all about his   
head and his palms were sweating. He couldn't seem to catch his breath for a   
moment, then it finally came to him. Neo propped himself up on his arms, still   
sitting on the cot and waiting for his vision to come back into focus. After   
blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes everything turned from a big dark blur   
into something much more beautiful.   
  
Trinity.   
  
Trinity stepped over to Neo, running her fingers through his hair then leaning   
down to look in his eyes   
  
"You okay?"   
  
Neo didn't respond for a moment, he was still staring through Trinity like she   
wasn't there. He shook his head and shuddered, then looked back up at Trinity,   
having a sort of confused and bewildered look on his face.   
  
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost..."   
  
"Something's happening..." Neo said quietly, his eyes searching Trinity's face   
for her expression. Trinity paused for a moment, then sat down on the cot in   
front of Neo. She folded one leg under herself and let the other leg hang off   
the side of the bed. Trinity took one of Neo's hands and waited for him to keep   
talking.   
  
When he didn't, and all he did was look down at the palm that wasn't occupied by   
Trinity, Trinity decided she had to encourage him.   
  
"What's happening?"   
Neo didn't look at trinity for a moment, then he glanced up, directly at her. He   
responded bluntly,   
  
"I don't know."   
  
*~---~* *~---~* One week earlier *~---~* *~--~*  
  
Fiona Nelson sat down in the chair in front of her computer. She pressed her   
thumb firmly on the button on the monitor, and it flipped on. After a few   
seconds, the black of the screen faded back into her desktop. The few icons were   
scattered on top of the desktop background. The background was a symbol that   
Fiona had found on the internet that meant 'Self'. She placed her well-worked   
and dry palm of her left hand onto the mouse and scooted it over. She double   
clicked on the icon titled 'internet connection'. Fiona typed in her password   
then leaned back in her chair, waiting for it to connect.   
  
There were no regular lights on in the room. There was only a string of all   
green christmas lights that twisted around on the walls and up onto the ceiling.   
The tiny green bulbs set off an eerie glow to the room that Fiona liked. The only   
other light source in the room came from the computer monitor. A dull glow   
radiated from the screen, lighting up Fiona's face.   
  
Fiona's stark black raven hair with silver streaked grown-out bangs carresed the   
sides of her baby-ish face. Her crystal eyes were two very noticeably different   
shades. Her left was a startlingly deep blue with a dark green ring around the   
outside of the iris, and the other eyes was dark brown with shards of green very   
faintly showing. Fiona's thin eyebrows were set off by a shiny ring set at the   
end of her right one. She wore no makeup, and she had no blemishes; which was   
rare for a 16-year-old girl. Fiona was a rather thin girl, though she was deceptively  
strong. Placed upon her upper half was a tight black tank top with the symbol for   
radioactive in neon green coloring. -Very- baggy jeans set around her thin legs,  
covering her combat boots underneath. Fi never wore any jewelry, for certain reasons...  
  
After a few minutes of desperatley trying to connect to the internet, but not   
meeting with success, Fiona eventually got her computer to work.   
"Finally!" Fiona muttered, smacking the side of the computer with her palm.   
  
She opened her normal chat program, to talk to her online friends...   
  
Other Hackers.   
  
It was almost 1 o'clock in the morning, and yet the band of 3 guy hackers (and   
now one girl) chatted relentlessly into the night. During the day, Fiona was not   
considered 'popular' at her high school but she wasn't thought of as a nerd. She   
was just another girl, who always wore black.   
  
Typo Imp: Boo.   
Cookie: Yeah, that's what I was thinking--HEY! HI TYPO!   
Amp: Hey you! Where the hell have you been?   
Typo Imp: Busy. I don't live on the computer...unlike SOME people I know.   
Hawk: I saw that.   
Typo Imp: LoL Hawk, 'Oooooh nooooo! Not the suuuun!'   
Hawk: Hey! okay, just because I'm paler than powdered sugar doesn't mean you   
have the right to poke fun at my insecurities.   
Cookie: LoL!   
Hawk: Silence Cookie, I know where you live!   
Amp: No shit, sherlock. He's your cousin.   
Typo Imp: Dawn comes to marble head...   
Hawk: *laughs* Typo, I'm gonna kick your ass!   
Typo Imp: I'd like to see you try hun, I'd like to see you try! Plus, you kinda   
live 2000 miles away from me, so unless you somehow find a way to get to me,   
you're screwed.   
Cookie: How'd you know where he lives?   
Typo Imp: I'm a hacker, moron.....plus, he told me.   
Hawk: hehehe...   
Cookie: oh. well I feel stupid.   
Amp: Happens a lot, doesn't it?   
Cookie: ALRIGHT! SHUT UP!   
Typo Imp: What were you guys talking about anyway?   
Amp: Guess.   
Typo Imp: We're never going to figure out what the matrix is, maybe we should   
stop trying.   
Amp: She's psychic, I tell you!   
Hawk: Have you got amnesia, Typo!? You're the one who wanted for us to so   
desperatley figure out what it was.   
Typo Imp: Yeah, but...   
Cookie: I still think it's just some high-budget marketing ploy for a new game   
that'll be revealed sometime in the near future...   
Amp: Did I say you were psychic, Cookie? No! I didn't!   
Hawk: Way ta make someone feel good, Amp.   
Amp: Was I talking to you?   
Typo Imp: Male testosterone at work...ahhh, ain't it beautiful?   
Hawk: C'mon Typo, we can't give up on the matrix now...we've come so far.   
Amp: What ARE you talking about Hawk? WE haven't come far at all! I have no idea   
what the matrix is!!   
Cookie: Yeah! Jesus....are you two not telling me and Amp something?   
Typo Imp: Never mind that, Amp, Cookie. Hawk, go to the private room with me, I   
need to talk to you. See you other guys later. Santa is watching.   
(Typo Imp has left room)   
(Hawk has left room)   
  
Fiona closed the window, then opened another one, having to type in a password   
to enter it.   
  
Typo Imp: Hawk?   
Hawk: Yeah, I'm here. What is wrong with you, Fi? Have you totally lost it?   
Typo Imp: Don't call me Fi.   
Hawk: That IS your name, right?   
Typo Imp: I know that...I prefer my alias better.   
Hawk: I'm not stupid Typo, I know that you're just trying to change the subject.   
Typo Imp: I know..   
Hawk: We actually did it, Typo. We were only a few seconds away from finally   
getting into that file when the computer crashed...what's stopping you from   
trying again? Did something happen to you?   
Typo Imp: Maybe we should tell Cookie and Amp that we tried...   
Hawk: No! You know we can't trust my cousin, OR his best friend.   
Typo Imp: They're getting suspicious though...they're not stupid   
Hawk: Good god, Typo! Stop changing the subject! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?   
Typo Imp: They know about us.   
Hawk: Who does?   
Typo Imp: The Agency. Yesterday...   
Hawk: How the hell would they be able to find out? We covered our tracks! Typo   
I'm here for you, I'm not going to dissapear. If something happened to you I   
need to know about it.   
Typo Imp: Why?   
Hawk: 'Cause I wouldn't be able to think straight if I knew something were   
happening to you...   
Typo Imp: .......   
Hawk: Just ignore what I said. Tell me about yesterday.   
Typo Imp: A man came to the house while my dad was still at work.   
Hawk: I thought that your dad ALWAYS locked all the doors and windows!   
Typo Imp: Yeah, from the OUTside   
Hawk: Tell me you're kidding....you dad actually LOCKS you IN the house?   
Typo Imp: We're not talking about my dad, okay?! Anyway, about the guy that   
came: He was dressed in a suit, and he had sunglasses and an earpeice...He put   
his hand around my throat so hard I couldn't breathe...and said Stop your   
foolishness, Miss Nelson. All your precious Mr. O'Brien will find of you if you   
continue...is nothing. We will erase you. he dropped me, then turned and left,   
slamming the door.   
Hawk: How would he have known about me OR you? oh my god...don't tell me you   
went back and finished the project without me...   
Typo Imp: I did...I know it was stupid! I guess they must have traced it back to   
my computer...I set a virus in their mainframe.   
Hawk: God damnit Typo!! You know you can't cover your tracks unless you have the   
program, and only I HAVE THE PROGRAM!!!   
Typo Imp: I know...   
Hawk: You should be grateful they didn't arrest you! Typo you have to be more   
careful, they're probably monitoring you now. Either that or me....Typo?   
Typo Imp: what?   
Hawk: Did you....see it?   
Typo Imp: The matrix?   
Hawk: Did you?   
Typo Imp: .....no.....   
Hawk: But you got through to the file! Do you have any better idea now as to   
what it could be?   
Typo Imp: I think it's a program...   
Hawk: For what?   
Typo Imp: I don't know....   
  
Fiona sighed, putting her elbow on the desk by the keyboard, and putting her   
forehead in her hand. She was about to start talking to Cary O'Brien (Hawk)   
again, but then she heard a voice from the floor below.   
  
"GET DOWN HERE!"   
  
Fiona immediatley turned off her computer, not even taking the time to say   
goodbye to Cary. She leapt up from her chair so fast that it tumbled back onto   
the carpet with a muffled bump. She tore out of her room, papers fluttering up   
from her desk then settling down comfortably again once she had passed. Her   
sneakers that found themselves on the carpet as she ran, had momentary contact   
with it. Fiona's heart was beating in her throat and she ran her hand down the   
broken banister, leaping over the last few steps of the carpeted stairs. Her   
feet landed noiselessly on the bottom floor. She'd learned to master the art of   
running silently because who knows what HE might do if she made too much noise.   
Fiona stood where she was, her chest heaving, and keeping her face straight   
forward. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her father in the kitchen,   
rummaging loudly through the refrigerator. The tinkling of bottles and cans   
would be a plain sound for a normal person, but those sounds sent chills down   
Fiona's spine. She very slowly turned her head, and when her face was towards   
her father, he immediately looked up at her.   
  
His eyes, though sunken deep into his head, had an icy glare. It would remind   
one of looking down into a lake and suddenly seeing the face of a dead human   
just below the surface. He had that sort of affect on people. The terrible old   
skin that held in the bony flesh of his cheeks was patchy and raw, as though   
maggots had been eating through it his whole life. When his thin lips pulled   
back into a smile, he exposed rows of perfectly and almost disgustingly white   
teeth that hadn't a spot on them. Though this is something that would be   
appreciated on a normal person, it was regarded as possibly the most frightening   
aspect of the man's features. Simply because everything else looked like it had   
been rolled in a pile of dog leavings and stuck together in random places. His   
long spindly arms seemed to literally be nothing but bone, because you could see   
the joint of his elbow and shoulder. How he was so incredibly strong though so   
incredibly skinny was still a confusion to Fiona, and she knew she could never   
underestimate what he might do next.   
  
After giving her a look that plainly said 'Move, and die,' he stuck his head   
back into the fridge. Fiona had her arms folded quietly behind her back, her   
eyes glued to her father. She wondered what he could be searching so intently   
for, all that was in the fridge was beer, and she knew that's what he was   
looking for. She held in a smirk, reminding herself that this man's intelligence   
quotient couldn't possibly be above 2, because it takes 3 to grunt. She looked at the front door at   
her left, just now realizing that it was left wide open. This meant simply that   
her father was only here for a short time to probably get some money then head   
back out. His wallet was on the counter so he most likely thought he'd get some   
beer on the way. Fiona's heart fluttered a little bit, thinking of the slim   
prospect of maybe being able to run for it.   
  
She slowly turned her face back around to the fridge, but her father was nowhere   
in sight. Immediatley a small sweat broke out on her forehead. The feeling she   
had was similar to the feeling you would have if you'd just found out there was   
a serial killer hiding in your house. She took one small step forward, then   
suddenly felt an iron grip on the back of her small neck. She gagged, knowing   
better than to struggle. She felt the hand move slowly around her neck, twisting   
her skin painfully, and not loosening it's grip at all. Within a few moments,   
her father's nose was a millimeter away from hers, and his eyes peirced directly   
into hers. She couldn't breath for two reasons. One, the thumb squeezing   
relentlessly into her windpipe, and two, the terrible fear. She knew what was   
coming.   
  
His other hand found itself suddenly on Fiona's mouth, his thumb and forefinger   
digging deeply into her cheeks. Fiona's eyes were emotionless. She knew he   
wanted to see her fear, but it just wasn't there for him to feast on. This made   
him even more angry, and he spoke to her, little flecks of white spit flinging   
from his horrid-smelling mouth as he did   
  
"I know you're afraid, kiddo."   
  
Fiona couldn't respond because she knew if she spoke back she'd pay dearly for   
it, and no breath could escape her lungs. Her forehead and cheeks (that were   
still pinched tightly in her father's fingers) started turning scarlet, as the   
lack of air was getting to her.   
  
If the man staring deeply into her eyes had just called her "Fiona" she would   
have been about 3 times less scared. The fact that he always called her kiddo   
set her nerves on a roller coaster ride without the seatbelt.   
Suddenly his lips curled back, flashing his stunning teeth. Fiona almost showed   
her mind-numbing fear but she had learned so hard not to. That damn smile. On a   
day when he didn't happen to be throttling her, and he smiled....even then she   
would lose her breath and feel as though she would throw up the little lunch she   
had had that day.   
  
Her cheeks began to turn purple, and he could tell she was losing conciousness.   
He suddenly tightened his grip so hard on her neck that if he held it, it would   
have snapped her spine. But then he dropped her unconcious body into a pile on   
the floor. He leaned over her and picked his three beer bottles up from off the   
bottom stair where he had left them. Looking one last time down at her, decided   
that he wasn't finished with her. He situated the three bottles inbetween the   
fingers on his left hand, leaving his right hand free. Going back into the   
kitchen and pulling open a drawer, the sound of silverware rattling quickly   
echoed around the room. His long spider-like fingers found what they were   
looking for, then her father went over to Fiona's body and kneeled down beside   
it. He smiled a loving smile, and dragged the steak knife deeply across her   
exposed cheek.   
  
~*Three hours later*~  
  
Fiona Nelson's eyes opened to slits. All she could see was red. She slowly sat   
up, though in order to she had to move her hand out to the side to support he   
upper body. As soon as she moved her hand, she bit her lip in pain as the tips   
of three of her fingers sliced against something sharp. Her vision came into   
focus a little more, and she looked down at the steak knife that had been   
dropped near her hand. Her head was swimming, and there was a blood stain on the   
carpet. She got to her feet, putting her uninjured hand on the banister of the   
staircase behind her. She kept her hand on the wall and stumbled slowly to the   
bathroom. She opened the door and flicked on the switch, trying to see into the   
large mirror. She had to wait until her eyes adjusted to the light, then she saw   
it. A large diagonal cut ran from just above the left corner of her mouth to the   
outside edge of her eye. It had mostly stopped bleeding, and the dried blood was   
crusted to her face. The cut hadn't been deep enough to do more than just leave   
an ugly scar, but it was enough to cause her to feel woosy from blood loss.   
She fumbled around the bathroom until she found a washcloth and something to   
clean the wound on her cheek and fingers. There were bruises all around her   
neck, but she ignored the pain because she'd gotten much worse treatment before.   
She cleaned out the cut on her cheek, wincing at the pain, but no tears came to   
her eyes. She never cried. The fact that she never did often stimulated the   
father to hurt her even more because he wanted to see her writhe about in pain   
and beg for mercy. But she never did.   
  
Her heart was made of stone.   
  



	2. (Silence)

Tavia lifted the small square carton to her lips and tilted her head back,   
closing her eyes momentarily. The rich white liquid drained from the triangle   
opening down onto her tongue, sending her brain a taste that we all know quite   
well. Tavia's dry throat was coated in the drink, and she felt refreshed, not   
having been able to drink anything all day. She lowered the carton from her   
lips, shaking the empty box from side to side in agony.   
  
"Why don't they give us bigger milks, rather than these little dinky things. I   
drank the whole thing in one freaking sip!"   
  
Fiona looked up, tugging at the neck of her turtleneck slightly, and laughed rolling  
her eyes at her friend, saying sarcastically,   
  
"Oooo, the mysteries of life...it's probably some elaborate conspiracy to keep   
YOU, Tavia McGrath, from getting substantial nourishment from her high school   
cafeteria."   
  
"Probably...everyone's out to get me anyway. Just like they never put enough   
milk in the cartons!"   
  
"Who is THEY, anyway?"   
  
Tavia looked up at Fiona, her eyes narrowing and she growled   
  
"Those damn Smurfs...."   
  
Fiona burst out laughing  
  
"What's wrong with smurfs?"   
  
"WELL, first of all, the blonde girl one doesn't even DO anything. She just   
stands around! And the rest of em...well...they're...BLUE!"   
  
"So?" Fiona took a tiny sip of her milk, having learned to take tiny sips so   
that way it lasted longer. The only food she ever got was from school lunch.  
  
"Nevermind...just know that whenever someone says something in reference to   
'THEY'or 'THEM', you'll know what he or she is talking about."   
  
"Smurfs?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"You're psycho, Tavie."   
  
Tavia shot Fiona a glance that obviously said 'DUH'. The others at the table,   
that consisted of 4 guys and 1 other girl, chatted amoungst themselves. After a   
moment, Tavia waved a finger at Fiona's right cheek, that had a large bandage on   
it.   
  
"What happened there, Fi?"   
  
Fiona's eyes got a little big and she stared at Tavia. She said quietly, under   
her breath   
  
"You know perfectly well what happened there.."   
  
The guy sitting next to Fiona, glanced at her, apparently having heard what she   
said. He looked over at Tavia   
  
"What's she talking about, Tavie?"   
  
Fiona shot Tavie a warning glance and Tavie hesitated for a second then   
improvised   
  
"Well, Jeremy...She...uh...Fi..uh, she was over at my house yesterday...yeah!   
And my hyper active little dog jumped on her and scratched up her face...we need   
to get my dog's claws clipped.....and I also need to go to the bathroom, do you   
need to go to the bathroom Fi? I think you do." Tavie stood up and went over to   
Fiona, snatching her by the wrist and dragging her out of the cafeteria. Fiona   
didn't object, she just followed in silence as Tavie dragged her down the hall   
and pushed open the door to the girls bathroom. She leaned down to check under   
the stalls to make sure that no one else was in the bathroom, then she turned to   
Fiona who was leaning nonchalantly against a wall, eyeing herself in the mirror.   
Tavie paced back and forth, growling. "We need to tell someone about that   
asshole, Fi. I can't stand it that he keeps doing all this stuff to you!!"   
Fiona just kept looking in the mirror, saying quietly   
"I know...and you know I've tried. It's like he keeps tabs on me or something. Every single time I've   
tried going to the authorities, he finds me before I do and cuts me up like a   
peice of raw meat."   
  
Tavie sighed, very afraid for her friend and knowing that every time they'd   
tried going to a teacher, or anyone, something got in their way. It was like   
Fiona's father knew when she was going to try and report him. Tavie folded her   
hands behind her back, then went and stood in front of Fiona.   
  
"What are we going to do?!"   
  
Fiona's eyes were huge, as she stared at the mirror in disbelief. Fiona didn't   
say a word, she just stared forward. Tavie furrowed her brow in confusion,   
waving a hand in front of Fiona's face   
  
"Whooohoo...anyone alive in there??"   
  
There was a moment of silence, then Fiona responded   
  
"You have no reflection...."   
  
Tavie immediatley turned around and looked at the mirror. In it, she saw a tall,   
thin red-haired girl with light brown eyes....She saw herself.   
  
"I see my reflection, Fi....maybe we should get that cut checked, you might have   
lost more blood than you thought and it's making you dillusional..."   
Fiona could see over Tavie's shoulder into the mirror...What she saw was   
something totally unreal and amazing. All she could see was herself standing   
there, leaning against the blueish-tiled wall. There was no Tavie in the   
mirror's reflection, just a distorted image of herself. By herself. A silent   
aura of fear seemed to circle from the mirror, and Fiona saw a tear slide down   
her reflection's face. Fiona immediatley put her hands on her own cheeks, but   
there were no tears there.   
  
"Fi...you're scaring me..."   
  
Fiona blinked a few times and shook her head to regain her senses, then looked   
back into the mirror. There in the glass she saw a perfect-looking Tavie,   
staring at her, seemingly very very worried.   
  
"Fi?"   
  
She looked over at her firey-haired best friend, realizing now that she it must   
have just been from the loss of blood the night before and it was making her see   
things. "I'm okay....I think it's just because of the blood loss..I need to go   
eat something to regain my compsure, c'mon, let's get out of here." Fiona   
literally shoved her friend out the bathroom door. She vowed to herself that   
she'd never go back and use that bathroom, even if she WAS 'just seeing   
things'....   
  
Later that day  
  
The raven-haired girl sat cross-legged in her cramped English class desk. The   
teacher droned on and on about a book that she'd read in 4th grade as though it   
were some literary classic that needed to be read over and over again. The worst   
part of it was that she had the undeniable need to go to the bathroom, but she   
didn't want to go anywhere near it because of what had happened earlier. Fiona   
was so very bored that she was reduced to counting the scratches on her   
at-least-50-year-old desk and trying to figure out of any of them said anything.   
Her worn and calloused fingers traveled over the bumpy surface, feeling the   
texture as she tried to read the inscriptions. Her lips moved slightly as she   
read them, but no sound escaped them.   
  
"George Harris 1967"  
  
"This class is as boring as hell  
Not that hell would be that boring..."  
  
"Geralyn Lord"  
  
"When in Doubt,  
run around in circles screaming."  
  
"Help me."  
  
"GOD LOVES YOU."  
  
"Fiona..."  
  
Her heart stopped. She was unbelieving of what she'd just read. All the other   
ones were the norm for her. She'd been reduced to reading the inscriptions   
before, but she'd never seen her name. But it was there, plain as day, seeming   
to scream at her. Her eyes traveled across the desk, and every message she found   
from then on was one she'd never seen before, and couldn't find again when she   
looked for it later. Each word pieced together into a sentence...   
  
"close"  
  
"your"  
  
"eyes"  
  
"and"  
  
"Don't"  
  
"Look"  
  
"Behind"  
  
"You."  
  
Fiona's hands started trembling ever so slightly. Either someone was playing a   
sick joke on her, or she was losing her mind. She got enough courage to put her   
hands on either side of her desk, then twist her back around slowly to look at   
the far wall. Normally there were no posters on the wall, but today it was   
different. There, directly behind her (she sat at the back of the room) was a   
large poster that reflected the light of the sun. In large, bold letters were   
the words:   
  
NIAGRA FALLS.   
  
Also, there was a large picture of the waterfall. Fiona's eyes narrowed,   
growling under her breath. It was then made clear to her that this WAS some sort   
of sick joke. She crossed her legs a little tighter and bit her lip in pain,   
trying to convince herself that she didn't need to go that bad. But she decided   
that her pathetic fear of the bathroom mirror would have to wait, because she   
really had to go. Her hand shot up and she waved it around desperatley, trying   
to get her teacher to notice. After a few moments he lowered his glasses and   
eyed Fiona sharply.   
  
"YES, Miss Nelson?"   
  
"Can I go to the bathroom, Mr. Butler?"   
  
"Miss Nelson, I'm in the middle of a lesson. I'm sure tha-"   
  
"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Let me go to the bathroom!!" Fiona begged.   
  
"Well, fine..."   
  
"THANK you!" Fiona shot out of her seat like someone had put a bottle rocket   
under her and dashed from the room. She screeched down the hallway, grabbing   
onto a corner to turn then jumping down the 3 flights of stairs in 4 bounds. The   
bottom of her sneakers skidded across the tiled floor and she rammed her   
shoulder into the bathroom door, it swinging open in front of her. She ran past   
the mirror, seeing for a moment, her reflection, which would have gone running   
past with her, but since it was no ordinary reflection, it just stood there.   
Fiona stopped short, her need to go to the bathroom immediatley dissapearing.   
She backed up a tiny bit to where she was face to face with the mirror, but she   
was looking the other way, terribly frightened as to what she might see. She   
talked quietly to herself   
  
"You're just seeing things Fi...forget about the mirror...just leave...leave!   
don't look in the mirror..." she squeezed her eyes shut and started to turn to   
leave, but then stupidly she opened her eyes and stared at the mirror. Fiona saw   
what she took to be some other dimension, some other time...   
  
There was a bald human, sitting against a black wall with a brown blanket   
drapped around her. Fiona couldn't tell whether or not it was a girl or boy   
because they were facing the ground. Fiona wasn't scared, for once. She felt the   
growing need to know who this person was. The human's skin was an almost   
startlingly white pale color, as though it had never seen sun. The blanket was   
dark and dingy, spots and splotched from unknown incidents covered it. Though it   
seeemed that the child clutched onto the blanket tightly, as though it were her   
only means of living. Suddenly the bald human looked up at Fiona. It was her.   
Though her eyes were red, and she didn't have the eyebrow ring, that was Fiona   
sitting on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her. Fiona took one step   
away from the mirror, shaking her head.   
  
"No...it's not real...not real!"   
  
Much to Fiona's amazement and disbelief, the girl got up. She walked directly up   
to her side of the glass. Her eyes were sad, and there was a tear running down   
her cheek. Then a small thin smile drew across her lips, and one of her hands   
emerged from the folds of the blanket. The pale soft hand pressed itself against   
the glass, and the sad eyes looked at Fiona with such admiration. Fiona watched   
all this, her heart beating in her throat. Her eyes meet the eyes of the girl on   
the other side of the glass and she stared into them. The same eyes. One blue,   
and one brown. The scars...there were no scars anywhere on the other girl, while   
there were many on Fiona. Fiona moved her trembling hand up and put it against   
the mirror. Very, very slowly, one millimeter at a time, she spread her dry   
fingers apart to where they matched those on the other side of the glass. Fiona   
looked at her hand, then at the bald girl on the other side of the mirror.   
Somehow, she didn't know why or what inspired her to do so, but Fiona lisped a   
tiny   
  
"Do not be afraid for me..."   
The girl closed her eyes and bowed her head, as though she knew something that Fi didn't.  
The girl on the other side suddenly balled her hand up into a fist and slammed it against the   
glass. Her mouth moved as if to make words and she looked distressed, trying to tell Fi something.  
Then suddenly the bathroom door swung open, smacking the inside wall of the bathroom with a loud thud.   
Fiona jumped, crying out a little "EEP!" almost losing her breath because she   
was so very startled. She looked into the mirror again, seeing the normal   
reflection of herself. The long black hair, the silver streaks, and the eyebrow   
ring. She pulled her hand back from the glass, wondering if she'd imagined the   
whole thing. She noticed a girl standing behind her in the mirror, and she   
turned around to see one of the girls from her English standing there, her hands   
folded calmly on her belly. Her name was Emily.   
  
"I'm sorry to startle you, Fiona. Mr. Butler wanted to make me come down and see   
if you were all right..."   
  
"What do you mean? I've only been here for a few minutes..."   
  
"Fiona," replied Emily, talking slowly as though Fiona might not understand her   
"you've been down here for almost an hour..."   
  



	3. (Karma)

Rain fell, pattering against the ground. Each drop broke on the pavement of a road outside a small high school. It had started out as just one. Just a single raindrop hit the leaf of a sapling outside the door. Then another, and another until droplets of water were showering down.   
  
The office had a large window that saw out into the parking lot. The eyes of a child who was sitting uncomfortably in a half-padded seat near the secretary watched as the rain slid down the window. There was a steady clatter as the secreatary's fingers flew over the keyboard to a computer. Though, Fiona's ears seemed to block everything out except for the gentle patter outside. She forgot to blink every once in a while, her head tilted slightly to the side, thinking about everything and nothing. Her dark hand rested against the armrest, and her elbow lay on the opposite one. Her legs were folded up underneath her and she sat on one of her ankles. The rain outside held her in a sort of trance that she'd been sitting in for the last ten minutes, waiting for the principal to return. A voice rang quietly in her ear, as though someone was yelling a couple of miles away. Then the sound grew louder, until suddenly Fiona snapped back into reality to the exasperated words of  
  
"Miss NELSON!"  
  
"Eh? What what? I'm sorry, I must have spaced out."  
  
"Apparently."  
  
Fiona didn't move, her eyes just traveled upward and saw an exceedingly pretty woman looking down at her. This woman had wavy blonde hair that came to about her shoulders, and a porcelin-doll face with about 50 pounds of make up. Her arms were crossed across her VERY obvious chest, that was also VERY obviously fake. Fiona snorted under her breath, blinking at her barbie-doll principal. Fiona tilted her head to the opposite side, trying to hide a smile as she wondered if she held a magnifying glass up to Miss Percey she would melt.  
  
"Miss Nelson are you listening to me?"  
  
"I'm all ears." Fiona batted her eyelids and gave a fake smile.  
  
"Get up and follow me."  
  
Fiona rose and followed her bouncy principal back into the actual office, Miss Percey closing the door after she'd come in.  
  
"Sit."  
  
The girl complied, sitting down on the chair in front of Miss Percey's desk. Her spine slouched against the cement-like chair, watching the other for sign of intelligence. In school Fiona was more of a 'class clown' type of girl. She spoke her mind, and if you were unfortunate to be shallow, she'd have to trouble whatsoever making it completely obvious to you. The kid got exceptionally good grades, yet also spent an exceptional amount of time in the principal's office. The reason was that she argued with the teachers when she didn't agree with a point they made.  
  
"So, Wanda," Fi said as though she were an adult talking to another adult, reaching forward and picking up a paperweight off the desk. Miss Percey slapped Fi's hand away and snorted, glaring at her.  
  
"Give me your backpack."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Give it!"  
  
Fiona hung her tongue out of her mouth and curled her hands over near her chin, panting. She scratched behind her ear then said  
"Grrrruff.." then rolled her eyes, picking up the backpack and tossing it to the other.  
  
"Isn't this illegal? You've gone through my bag 50 thousand times MA'AM You aren't gonna find anything. This is a violation of my rights. I'll sue. What are you gonna say then mrs.principal? You gonna seduce the judge like you do the 14-year-old frosh boys who don't know any better?"  
  
"Be quiet Nelson."  
  
"No I won't be. You knw me better than that Wanda."  
  
"I am MISS PERCEY!"  
  
"And I'm Fi, nice to meet you."  
  
"AHA! I FOUND IT! FINALLY! I KNEW IT!" Miss Percey pulled a small tightly rolled-up white thing out of the bag and showed it triumphantly. "I knew all along that you were taking drugs."  
  
Fiona glanced for a second at the white thing, expressionless, then back at the other. She spoke in a cooing voice and smiled, as though Miss Percey were a child and wouldn't understand. "That's pocket lint honey. But better luck next time finding the drugs in my backpack that don't exist because I'm not a mindless fool and I don't take drugs. It's okay don't get discouraged, there's always tomorrow." Dropping the voice she continued "What made you think I take drugs?"  
  
"You were in the bathroom for an hour, and plus, you dress like a druggie."  
  
"You dress like a hooker, but you don't see me making assumptions now do you?"  
  
"Get out. I'm calling your father."  
  
Fiona's eyes widened like plates, her heart stopping, all the sarcasm dropping out of her body and piling up on the floor like wet laundry.  
"Don't.. I'm sorry I was just kidding around..."  
  
"Too late. Get out. You'll be suspended."  
  
Jumping to her feet, fuming she demanded, "On what grounds??? Arguing a stupid point you made? Well fine if I'm going to get suspended for excercising my rights at least I'll be far away from YOU." Fiona snatched her backpack out of her hands and tramped out of the stuffy room. Once outside, the wet laundry of all her lost hope still clung around the bottom of her ankles dragging behind her like weights. The child couldn't go home. She knew her dad would be notified, and God knows what he would do to her. Satan, rather.  
  
A bell somewhere above her sounded, and soon she was outside in the pouring rain. Insta-soaked. It didn't matter though. There was nothing left for her to go to. Instead of walking home, she turned a different way.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The time just between dusk and dark is when real stars escape the oureaches of the sun. The last snake-like rays straggle to catch up with the others on the horizon. The lady of night gliding above with her cloak of blackness, speckled with small glowing gems. It is a silence then, when everyone is just getting home from the toils of the day, just before the riotous teens and young adults leave for their alcohol partying and drugs. When the only cars on the road in the cities are people rushing to do things they've forgotton...  
  
It was there that this thin being walked, through the roads that led her to worlds that only she could not see nor ever imagine. Now all she saw below her were the squares of the sidewalk. One cement block after another, passing by like nothing. Fiona couldn't help but think, that one square of sidewalk was like a lifetime. That it seemed like nothing and could pass by like nothing but was so much no matter how short.  
  
With that thought, Fiona stopped herself in the middle of a sidewalk square, unfortunatley also in the middle of a puddle. She would have rolled her eyes under any other situation, but now...no. The people that had to walk out of their way to go around her made no difference. This life could end with a single step past the boundaries of the square. One footprint out of the puddle of the infinity she'd always known. Her hand found itself on a random stranger passing by. Grasping their shoulder she felt thier eyes rest upon her. Without turning her head or looking to see who she'd stopped, Fiona spoke in a calm voice.  
  
"This could be the most memorable hour of our lives."  
  
She stepped OVER the line between the sidewalk edges, but before letting go she added a clipped ending, addressed to her startled victim.  
  
"It will happen whether we're there or not."  
  
With that her hand released itself from the folds of the other's clothing, and continued to walk, the rain pattering down upon her head.  
  
*~*  
  
Knock...knock...(crickets chirping)  
  
No answer.  
  
Knock...KNOCK KNOCK?!?!  
  
"mmmphh..the hell are you. we don't want any vacuums."  
  
"Shush Tavie your parents will wake up."  
  
The glassy-eyed dream-drunk teenager stared back at her friend. Her hair was a matted mess about her head as though someone had rubbed a balloon against it then stuck her head next to an electrical socket. Her eyelids looked as though they weighed about 50 lbs. each, and took an exceeding amount of effort to keep open even a sliver. Her mouth hung open loosely, slackjawed off to the side, her tongue sitting lazily on the edge of her lip. A wrinkled white t-shirt went down to her knees, underneath that were pasty white legs and squeeky ducky slippers poking out from the ends of her toes. The crickets still chirped relentlessly.  
  
"Uh, Tavie?"  
  
Nothing seemed to be registering.   
  
The annyoing insects in the bushes around the front door were just about to start up another chorus, when an exasperated foot stomped one of them. Those remaining were all stunned into silence.   
  
Fi snappped her fingers in her friend's face.  
  
"AAAAUGH BOB THE RUBBER CHICKEN IS CO-"  
  
Tavie's eyes were as big around as golf balls, and Fiona's hand was clamped firmly around her mouth.  
  
"I told you to be quiet."  
  
"mmphgrrrf..."  
  
"Can I stay here tonight?"  
  
Silent nod, for lack of the use of an oral instrument.  
  
*~*~*~*~  
(next morning)  
  
"Fiona, sweetheart, hun, you know I love you and everything but you are completely off on this one."  
  
"The heck are you talking about fool? Tavie, zero is not a number."  
  
"Yes it is! You can't write 'twenty' without a two and a zero, it doesn't work! So zero HAS to be a number!"  
  
Tavie and Fiona were debating once again, each on either side of the breakfast table. Both of Tavie's parents were watching in slight amusement. It was the same every time, Fiona was slouching, her arms crossed, looking calm and comfortable.. While on the other side of the table Tavie was getting hyper/angry/excited all at the same time trying to prove her own point.   
  
Tavie's mom felt sorry for the danish that unfortunatley ended up on the table between the two.  
  
"But Tavie, listen, two plus zero equals what? two. Zero will never change and will never change anything else. It is forever and never, unlike any other number."  
  
"But FI! Thousands upon thousands of databases for computers are written with what two symbols? A zero and a 1! You of all people should know that. If zero didn't exist then we wouldn't have computers, technology! You'd have to wake up every morning to find that your poor toast has not been toasted for LACK OF A TOASTER!"  
  
"First of all, toast isn't toast before it's been put in the toaster, it's bread. Secondly, zero exists, I agree with you on that. But it's not a number. It's something else. It's the only 'number' that is constant, it is the only 'number' that no matter what, will leave the number it's affecting the same, or change it to itself. It is the support for every other number, from beginning to end. Think of it this way, that every human is a number. We all exist. Do we call the inside layer of a mother's womb a human? No! Just because if it weren't for that then humans wouldn't exist, doesn't mean that the layer of flesh is human."  
  
Fiona paused, waiting to see if Tavie had any retorting comments yet, but she blinked, apparently still thinking. So Tavie continued,  
  
"Last of all, to give you an example on a smaller scheme, the Jackson5 sang 'abc, just as easy as 1-2-3' NOT 'abc, just as easy as 0-1-2'. Make sense?"  
  
"I don't even know why you bother trying to argue with her Tavie, you know she could convince the president that the sky is green if you gave her enough time," said Tavie's mom, sipping at her coffee.   
  
"Well with our current president that's no big accomplishment..." mumbled Tavie's Dad.  
  
"Shush you," Tavie warned, picking up the victimized danish and taking a triumphant bite of it.  
  
"Hey!" Fi protested, snatching at the danish.  
  
"So where did you say your dad was again, Fiona?" questioned Tavie's mom.  
  
"Uh... He's out of town on business."  
  
"Oh, what sort of business?"  
  
"UH OH! TIME FOR SCHOOL! GOTTA GO MOM AND DAD THANKS FOR BREAKFAST IT WAS GREAT SEE YA LATER!!" Tavie snatched Fiona and they were gone in a whirlwind, a napkin fluttering down from the air like a helicopter.  
  
"Do they realize it's saturday?"  
  
"Probably not. Let them go anyway, should prove to be interesting."  
  
Once outside Fiona grabbed onto Tavie  
  
"Do you realize it's saturday?"  
  
"Yeah, but if we'd stayed it would have proved to have been way more interesting then we needed it to be right now."  
  
"Tavie I don't know what to do.." Fi's high spirits had dimished quickly once again. She had spilled everything to Tavie last night, but tavie, being the sensible one, dismissed the mirror part for just a hallucination.  
  
"Stay with me for a while, my parents won't mind."  
  
"And then what? Whoever the hell that guy was comes after YOU too? That's not gonna happen."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
"Me."  
  
Tavie stepped over to Fiona and eyed her as close as humanly possible without their eyelashes rubbing against one another.  
  
"Listen, you are the only person I can depend on that is close to me and I can't lose you."  
  
"Damn child your breath stinks how about we gets some mints and shove them in your NOSE, you're invading my personal bubble.. Don't get all mushy on me I might have to slap you."  
  
Tavie smirked and backed up a little bit, shaking her head  
  
"You're the only person I know who can make light of any situation yet somehow stay serious at the same time."  
  
"Are you being sarcastic? I can never tell with you."  
  
Tavie just grinned stupidly. Which was soon greeted by the aforesaid 'slap'.  
  
"Ow, what was that for?"  
  
"It's my turn to be serious for a minute. Look out there Tavie. Just look. You see that? THAT is the road to the rest of your life. Are you scared? Cause I am. This is the world of instant-gratification. Of fast food franchises with the incoherant mumblings of drive-thrus. This is your world of automatic teller machines and the security cameras that help you sleep at night. This is your world of single-minded bigots and greedy politicians that feed of the lives of those who don't understand.***"  
  
Tavie nodded and smiled slightly "So go ahead, find the beginning of the road Fiona. But watch your step." she winked then dissapeared back into her house.  
  
Fiona was left alone again on a pathway. She knew that Tavie was supporting her in whatever decision she made about her life, and she wanted her to be able to make it on her own. Fiona also knew that Tavie would forever be just inside that door, waiting for her to come running back for help.  
  
The sun was just rising, though hard to see above the skyline of the city in the distance beyond the suburb in which she stood. A scrawny dirty pigeon flew down onto the cobblestone at her feet, spreading it's wings to warm itself against the increasing rays. Upon closer inspection it was found that one of the pigeon's feet was missing. It hobbled along on a single foot, limping over to the grass and snitching at a lone crumb of bread. Fiona watched in fascination as it took off from the ground again, into the air. Once lifted from it's constraint of the ground it flew with all the gracefullness of a dove, just as beautiful silhouetted against the blinding rays of the bright star.  
  
  
  
***((quote by Christopher Johnson))  



	4. (Solid)

An eerie silence pierced Fiona's ears as she pushed upon the heavy front door. There was no reaction or disturbance from anything in the house. It seemed dead. But of course, nothing is as it seems, and Fiona knew all too well that the world is under no obligation to give us what we expect. With this thought in mind Fiona pushed the door open the rest of the way. All she needed was to grab her wallet from upstairs.. Yet her room, though close, seemed as far away as an eternity.  
  
Making as little noise as possible, she stepped up one stair at a time until the banister curved off to the right down a hallway. No lights were on in the house, though it was easy to see for the sun was high on what would have been a cheery saturday morning in May. It was anything but cheery. The door to her father's room was open wide, and Fiona looked in as she passed. There he was, sprawled out like a WW2 solider that had just been dragged in from battle and thrown onto the bed. He made no noise as he slept, which had always made her slightly uneasy because there was no judging if he was actually asleep or not. Fiona decided to get get out as quickly as she could and not think about it.  
  
It looked so close, the door to her room. Only a mere 5 feet away. Still she stood motionless in the hallway. The hinges on her door always squeeked as loud as a dying cow, and Fiona was debating with herself whether or not to risk it. Deciding against possible DEATH Fiona headed back to the stairs, about to descend them when she foolishly took a moment to look around her. The house was spotless, it always had been. She thought with chagrin that if it weren't for her, her father would most likely be living on the street as a drunkard in some dirty back alley part of the city. The light from the window reflected beautifully off the shiny banister... beconning her to go down.  
  
"Good morning, sweetheart."  
  
Fiona froze. This was quite possibly THE worst thing that could have happened. Options started flying through Fi's head like sand in an hourglass, each one stupider than the next. But before thinking about it she took one of the options, and went flying down the stairs. One would thank that if you were being followed and you ran, then whoever was following you would run too, right?   
  
There was no sounds coming from behind her.. once at the bottom of the stairs, she turned her head to look behind her.  
  
No one.  
  
Deciding NOT to investigate, Fiona her head back around, about to flee out the front door. A face. That face stared back at her with shallow irreversible eyes that forever had a lock on her.   
  
"How-"  
  
Fiona was cut off, being knocked to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Instantly he was on top of her, her shoulderblades digging into the carpet. Struggling came to no avail, trying to free herself from his grasp. Opening her mouth to scream, no sounds escaped her mouth. There was a quick glint of something metal, reflecting off the happy glow of the sun. Then it was there.. a knife in her skin, her chest, through her heart. Fiona's back arched slightly and all she could do was gasp a tiny squeek of air.   
  
Then suddenly everything seemed to stop. Like a movie put on pause. Fiona rolled to the side, which under any other circumstance would have been impossible because she was pinned down by the stake through her heart. But no.. she sat up slowly, touching her chest. It was bleeding profusely, and her fingers were stained with blood, but there was only the single cut, and nothing else. It was as though the knife and her father had become nothing but images and she had just rolled right through them.  
  
"How did I..."   
  
Suddenly the door busted open and there was someone silhouetted against the bright lights of the sun. Fiona felt her father's grip around her neck..  
  
Blackness. 


	5. (Cage)

"I still can't believe you force-fed her the red pill."  
  
"She was unconcious, there was no other way. Sometimes choices have to be made, little one."  
  
"She's awful pretty..."  
  
Morpheus glanced momentarily at the over-articulate six-year-old child who was crouching on the floor beside Fiona's cot. He was thin though healthy, with short mass of dark hair. His skin was pale, constrasting to his hair.. smooth, and absent of plugs. He turned his head and grinned at Morpheus, exposing two rows of teeth wired with weird post-modern looking braces.   
  
"Yes, but she's taking much longer than I thought she would. Even with the complications."  
  
"Complications?"  
  
"Yes.. hush now Gavy, she's awake."  
  
Typo opened her eyes very slowly, only to close them again because of the rude invadance of florescant lighting. Morpheus got up and went to the door, pushing down a small lever slightly. The lights dimmed to a gentler flare. Typo, though in a completely alein environment, had a sense of safety and security that she couldn't explain.. but just felt it. Gavroche meanwhile scooted over to Typo, getting in her line of vision and waiting to be the first thing she saw.  
  
"Wake up sleeping beauty," Gavroche whispered. Typo opened one eye, focusing it, and groaning slightly. She saw a cute boyish face looking at at her.  
  
"Dopey?"  
  
"Close. That's snow white."  
  
"Well I sure as hell fell like I've been dead."  
  
"Eaten any apples recently?"  
  
"A red one."  
  
Morpheus smiled slightly, going over slowly and sitting down on a chair beside Typo's cot. She opened her eyes the rest of the way, though her vision still slightly blurry. "Looks as though you've made a friend." Morpheus said to Typo.  
  
"Morpheus?"  
  
"You remember me?"  
  
"Surprisingly.. where am I?"  
  
"You're not in your glass coffin anymore!" Gavroche piped up.  
  
"No more walt metaphors, mickey. It's time for bed." Gavroche looked over at the door, seeing Trinity there, smiling gently.  
  
"Awww Mom! I wanna talk to Typo.."  
  
"C'mon Gavy, let Morpheus speak to the poor girl."  
  
The little boy got to his feet, looking dejected.. then suddenly took off out of the room and down the hallway "Yahahaha you can't catch me!!" Trinity rolled her eyes and muttered, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.  
  
Typo and Morpheus blinked.  
  
"Anyway," Morpheus began, looking the bald girl over. "Come with me." He rose and went to the door, lifting the latch. A wheel on the other side spun and the hatch squeeked open. He motioned, palm up, for Typo to go ahead.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
The small band of reistance fighters sat around a plain metal table, scooping mucous-like glop out of little tins with their sporks. Typo looked as though deep in thought, expressionless. Gavy was discussing the metaphorical importance of sporks with Gizmo, an 8-year old newbie who'd been freed a month before. He used to be one of the Oracle's potentials, one of the oracle's children but he was given up to Morpheus and his crew. Trinity was trying to calm the beginnings of a food fight between the two boys, while Neo, Tank and Morpheus talked amongst themselves. Out of the corner of her ear Typo heard the word 'matrix' float through the air. She couldn't have been sure who said it, but she seized the opportunity.  
  
"Can I go this time?"  
  
"No Typo, I think it's better you stay with Gavy and Tank. Besides, the little one needs help building his new computer." Morpheus said calmly. Typo didn't move, just looked at Morpheus for a few moments, conversations continuing around her. Suddenly she lifted up her tin and slammed it down on the table, as though she were a volcano with thousands of tons of pressure building up inside her until she finally exploded.  
  
"That's IT! It's been three months and yet I have not seen the matrix since you people so rudely pulled me from it. You're right maybe I WASN'T having such a good life but it's better than this prison! Everyday I sit here alone with Gavy or Tank, I do chores and you've taught me to be probably one of the best mechanics this side of the sewer system. But to what point is that? If you wanted a gopher so much you should have taken an already trained mechanic from Zion. It's not that I don't appreciate what you have done for me, but with all due respect mr.president, what's the POINT!? I sit alone at night, awake, watching my friends through the matrix monitors. I watch them go about their lives that I could have been a part of. I watch somebody that I really care about.." Typo choked slightly then covered up quickly by continuing "go about his life wondering whether or not I even exist anymore. You make up some lame excuse not to let me grow my hair out, and you keep me bald. You refuse to give me training, the only time I've been hooked up to one of those dentist chairs is when you showed me the construct and told me where I was. I didn't think there was anything else to it, then you guys go along and free Gizmo. I see the same process repeated, with the exception that he gets training and he gets to go back and see the oracle. It's been three months and you people still treat me like I'm gonna BREAK or something! Like you expect me to shatter if you put me in that overgrown computer game again! Why am I so different? WHAT AM I??"  
  
Silence.  
  
The others at the table had frozen in their movements, stunned and unknowing of what to say about her outburst. All of it was true, but no one knew how to react or how to tell her the truth. Gizmo broke the spell, saying cheerfully  
  
"You're the matrix's brain child!"   
  
Instantly Gavroche's eyes widened, and so did everyone else's simultaneously. They all stared at the newbie who cringed and sunk down, trying to make himself as little as possible. Meanwhile, Neo and Trinity gave Gavy the 'someone's in trouble' look. Gavroche squirmed, punching Gizmo in the arm  
  
"I told you that you weren't SUPPOSED to know, goober!"  
  
"No," said Morpheus calmly, "she needed to find out eventually."  
  
Typo whispered, "I'm...what?"  
  
There was another awkward silence. The sensei reached forward and put a gentle hand on Typo's shoulder, the bare skin underneath the touch of his fingers flinching and drawing back. She got up from her seat, leaving the room as silent as a cat, though the reason for her leaving left scratches in her new friends' ears and hearts. Morpheus' eyes traveled over to Tank, who nodded unnoticeably, understanding.  
  
Everyone slowly began eating again, in abject quietness. The occasional "ow." from Gizmo, and a scowl in Gavy's direction.  



	6. (3 Stooges)

Cary O'Brien sat stoney-faced at his cousin Cole's computer. His large dark brown eyes flicked back and forth across the glowing screen, and his small though rough-looking body was supported by the back of the chair. His hair was black and spiked, frosted at the tips. Normally he would have been more awake and in-reality, except that something was bugging him. The dorm around him was in complete chaos, things piled in random corners, the leftovers of food packages and food itself lay sprawled aorund the room as though some monster had charged through gleefully. The blankets were in a crumpled mess at the end of the bed, and two bean bag chairs supported the backs of the riotous collegers. Carefree shouts of over-enthusiasm rang around the room, as Travis and Cole pushed the bottons on their controllers, watching thier little Tekken characters proceed to beat the living crap out of eachother.  
"HEY that's no fair!"  
"Tell that to the computer, twinkle toes."  
"I'd rather tell it to your face!" Travis tackled his friend and attempted to wrench the controller from his hand. Cole held on steadily and tried to kick at the form pinning him down. Cary hardly raised an eyebrow, smirking lightly to himself though making no move to assist his distressed relative. Cole was a tall, skinny and lanky guy, with glasses and short black hair, hinted with streaks of blood red coloring. He appeared weak, though often in these quarrels between him and his best friend he sometimes ended up the better off. Travis on the other hand was not quite as tall as Cole, though still had some height to him. His dirty blonde 'grubbins hair' (as it was dubbed by cole) fell into his eyes as he pinned cole down easily using one hand to hold him down and the other to try and get the controller. He appeared much stronger than the latter, a tank top revealing well defined muscles, that cole often teased him about, calling him 'Fabio'.  
"You two are like the Tweedle Dee and Dum of the 21st century," Cole said, yawning while the two scuffled.  
"Hey I'm not fat!" protested Cole, putting travis in a chokehold.  
"I didn't say YOU were Dee."  
"Weren't they both fat?"  
"LITTLE KID MANUVER!" Travis cried, grabbing ahold of the controller and jerking his arm back and forth until Cole had no choice but to let go or have his arms ripped from his sockets. A victorious cry was quickly turned into a fearful yelp as the sound of someone getting piledriven into the bean bags was heard. And still Cary sat, putting his chin in his hand and sighing.  
"Have you guys seen Typo online recently?" came the totally out-of-the-blue and calm question.  
"What?" questioned Cole, who had a whimpering Travis by the hair.  
"Typo? No..why?" interjected Travis, reaching up, grabbing Cole's arm and flipping the unfortunate child over his head and smacking his back down onto the ground.  
"I'm just worried.."  
"You should be."  
"eh, why...?" Cary turned just in time to get a mouthful of pillow. He spat and spluttered, grabbing a glass of water and dumping it over his assailant's head.  
"Dude don't electrocute yourself."  
"It's not me who should be worried about getting electrocuted!"  
"EEK!"  
"Calm down Cole he's just a little bug! Easily squishable.." Travis tackled Cary from his chair and dragged him over to the corner where he picked up a pillow and was about to whack Cary.  
"Holy shit.." came a quiet voice over by the computer.  
"What??" Cary demanded. WHACK! "Ow!"  
"Sorry. Impulse." Travis grinned stupidly.  
"Get out of my way you ogre." Cary pushed Travis aside, who leaped onto the ground and latched himself onto Cary's ankles. The 16-year-old muttered, having to strain quite a bit to walk across the room with a 200 lb. weight clinging to his legs. Once making it over to Cole, he said "Do you have an witch hazel? There seems to be an abnormal GROWTH-" Cary said this, kicking Travis who responded with a quiet 'ow?' while he continued "on my leg. Could you remove it for me?"  
"You guys let's be serious for a moment shall we?"  
Travis couldn't help burst into laughter, which was soon quieted by another kick and a more annoyed 'OW?!'  
"What is it?"  
"Read this. Apparently the feds are after our buddies again, seems like they're serious this time."  
"How do you mean?" came a painful question from someone on the floor.  
"Hold on.." Cole kept reading, Cary doing the same over his shoulder. Then Cary's eyes widened, reading faster than Cole.  
"No!"  
"No what? This is just about some hacker chick who's dissapeared and in serious trouble.. Dude the dad even has a reward for finding her. Wonder what she did that was so bad, oh wait.. Apparently she's been kidnapped too. She's just a well-rounded little demoness isn't she?"  
"HELLO??" Cary echoed into Cole's ear, smacking him on the side the head "That's Fi!!"  
"Who?"  
"Typo....??"  
"Oh. Well that's not good."  
"Is she available?" KICK "ow... Hey maybe we should rescue her."  
"I don't think she needs rescuing.." said Cary, reading the article over again.  
"What makes you say that?"  
Cary was searching around for his jacket, which he found promptly. "Cause if she needed rescuing then her dad wouldn't be the one offering a reward for it."  
"Huh?" both the others questioned simultaneoulsy.  
"We don't need to save her guys, we have to prevent her from being saved. Who here wants to go on a little trip?"  
"Cary!" excalimed Cole "What will aunt Jean say?! I'm supposed to be taking care of you this week! No wild adventures!"  
"How very unlike you Cole, actually listening to my mom?"  
"Well.."  
"Oh C'mon, it'll be fun."  
"I'm in!" cried Travis, getting up and staggering over to collect his wallet which was scattered all over the room.  
"What about our classes though Trav?!"  
"Screw 'em. This is life, Tweedle Dum, and as the walrus said 'the time has come'."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
"8 hours in a plane and I had to sit inbetween beavis and butthead. Shouldn't my insurance cover this?"  
"Cole?"  
"Yes?"  
"Shut up."  
"You shut up Travis! You were the one who ordered the beans!!"  
"Hehehe..."  
"Hey c'mon guys where's the love?" cary questioned, grabbing his bag off the revolving shoot.  
Travis awwwed cornily and bear-hugged both cole and cary, picking them up for a moment or two. Cole grimaced stiffly.  
"Put me down, you're scarin' people."  
Travis set his buddies down gently, then began to show off to passing girls. Cary ignored this, taking a piece of paper from his pocket.  
"Alright, alright.. now according to this it's not too far from the outskirts of the city.. a suburb on the north side... Number 306 Oregon Ave."  
"Ooooh flying monkey shit check out the rack on that-" Travis was interupted by a sharp pinch and then a pulling of his ear, dragging him from the airport.  
"You two treat me like my mother!"  
"Don't go getting all excited now Travis." Cole said, waving down a cab.  
"Cole?"  
"Yes?"  
"I'm going to kill you. Just thought you'd like to know."  
"That's nice."  
The three of them tossed their bags in the trunk of the yellow cab. Cary climbed into the backseat, peering out the window at the other two as they argued over the shotgun.  
"But I get sick in the back!"  
"Quit your whining, I'm older than you."  
"FINE! YOU can sit next to mr-scary-cab-driver-don't-know-english-man! I'll sit in the back with the urchin!" Travis declared hotly.  
"Hey!" Cary growled at Travis when he got in. "I feel sorry for you, having to spend an hour in this cab with the little urchin who gets a little miffed when insulted.."  
He only had a second to become fearful, when all of a sudden the cab shot forward like a little kid who'd sat on a bottle rocket. Instead of an hour, they were there in less than 15 minutes..  
Cary put his hand up on the fake leather seat, attempting to peel his face away from it.  
"Man, talk about major whiplash.." Travis groaned quietly.  
"So I'm guessing you charge by miles, not hours?" Cole asked the driver politely, handing over some money. A mmmmmmmPOP came from the back as Cary finally managed to remove his skin from the seat and step out of the car, only to fall flat on his face from nausea. Travis did basically the same thing. Cole stepped out of the cab, over Travis and around to the sidewalk where Cary was. The cab drove off, leaving them alone on a quiet suburb street. It was dusk and growing quickly darker. The band started off down the sidewalk, Cole and Travis in front, Cary straggling behind, looking everywhere around them. Cole had the paper with him, checking the numbers on mailboxes.  
"I still don't know what you think we'll acomplish by finding her house, Cary."  
"Huh?" responded the teenager, who was distracted by everything around them as though Fiona was just going to leap out of the bushes.  
"(sigh) Nevermind. What?" Cole looked up agitated, feeling Travis' hand on his chest, stopping him from moving. Looking off down the sidewalk, the pair saw a *very* pretty girl. As she came closer, her features became more evident. She wasn't very tall, but she was thin and her face, though humble, could be mistaken for a model's. Her hair was a firey crimson red, and she walked with a certain slowness to her step.. as though lost in thought.   
"It's just a girl, moron. She looks way too young for you anyway. Probably about 15 or something.. man when are you-"  
"Hello." The girl said curiously, stopping in front of them. Apparently she didn't want to walk all the way around them, but she didn't want to be the cause of trouble either.   
"Ahoomunahoomanahoo..." burbled Travis, using Cole's shoulder to keep himself from falling over. She forced a friendly smile and was about to walk around when Cary pushed through the two older guys,  
"What is it, why'd you...stop..." He had come through and ended up face-to-face with the young girl. They blinked at one another, and both were at a loss for words. "I'm..a.. I'm Cary." he stumbled over his words, unable to take his eyes from hers. She blushed lightly then spoke, her voice that used to be soft and sad now had a sort of rapture to it, staring back into his brown eyes  
"And I'm Tavie."  
  



	7. Truth - hturT

"Typo?"  
  
"Go away."  
  
A slight creak was heard, and Tank's friendly face peeked around the corner. The thin girl was sitting in the corner of her cot, her slender hands folded idly over one another on her knees that were pulled up to her chest. Her face was smoothed over so it held no expression, and yet just that spoke everything to Tank. Her confused eyes stared at something on the far wall as though it were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.   
  
"Typo we need to talk."  
  
"You know so much, go talk to Gizmo, even he knows more than I do." Her eyes didn't diverge from the drab gray wall, though her eyebrows narrowed slightly in an attempt to keep back the tears that wouldn't come anyway.  
  
"Don't give me that, you know we've always been able to talk before."  
  
"That's only because YOU are -have- to stay back when they go into the matrix because you don't have any plugs."  
  
"Even if I could I would still stay to talk to you-"  
  
"Don't give me that bullshit." Her voice was slightly cracked, and only a split second of silence went by, and Tank opened his lips to say something. Before he could, Typo threw her glare of reproach at him and said with dead enthusiasm, "Look at me, Tank. These holes in me, in my head, my arms. They mean nothing. I'm just another girl, but you dragged me from the life I could have had. And now I learn that I'm some sort of expirement?"  
  
There was a painfully long silence between the two, Typo taking trembling breaths and hugging her knees closer to herself. Finally, Tank spoke.  
  
"You have in your head information that could destroy everything you've ever known."   
  
Typo shot a piercing look at Tank, and he continued. "The matrix."  
  
"I don't have anything in my head. You've got the wrong person..." her hands slipped from her knees, and her ankles linked themselves together over the side of the bed. Her glare was softening though, and Tank let forth a tiny smile  
  
"I'm pretty damn sure we have the right person."  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"Come with me, Fiona," his dark hand pulled the door open the rest of the way, and he motioned for her to go out with a smile. Typo got to her feet and crossed her arms her brown blanket draping lightly over her shoulders. She gave Tank a defeated look and walking past him out the door.  
  
"Don't call me that," she said in an attempt to get back her wall of unfeeling. Persing her lips together, she waited for Tank to go ahead of her, then followed.  
  
"You aren't fooling anybody, you know."  
  
"Of course I know. Don't burst my bubble."  
  
He shook his head and smirked, glancing back at Typo, who averted her proud glance immediatley. They entered a room filled with many screens, all rolling the codes of the matrix down them like drops of rain down a window. Tank sat down in the chair in front of them, striking a few keys on the keyboard. Picutres and files started cycling through at speeds Typo couldn't keep up with. The bald child watched over Tank's shoulder, her arms still crossed defiantly. There were many thoughts, well actually only a few thoughts conflicting with eachother in her mind. First was the instinct to be angry at Tank and the rest of the crew for not telling her thing she should logically know about. Second was the intense curiousity to found out what exactly they had hidden from her, and a grateful sense of relief of knowing that within moments she would know. Tank's fingers still flew over the keys..  
  
"Do you know anything about genetic diseases?" he made this sound like a normal small-talk topic, and the girl quirked a brow in curiousity.  
  
"A little.. we learned about it in Biology."  
  
"What about Huntington's?"  
  
Just as he said this, one of the screens paused, and a small picture grew to take up the whole screen. It was a cross-diagram of a human brain..  
  
"This is a normal brain. Not unlike one I, Morpheus, Trinity, anyone else on this ship or in the world have. Now this," Tank paused and struck a single key. The brain proceeded to crumple and rot away around certain areas, and large gaps opened up in the middle. "is the brain of a near-death Huntington's patient. You can see here that there's degeneration of the cortex, and complete atrophy of the caudate nucleus." he motioned his finger around the center of the brain.  
  
"Doesn't that not happen until about mid-life though?"  
  
"Not until about the 25th-30th year of life, no. There is no cure, and doctors still have basically no clue as to how it's caused."  
  
Behind Tank, the multiple screens were showing faces, people talking about the disease in general. Typo let her eyes wander past Tank and look in wonder at the clipped videos of people talking. One was of a young girl, who couldn't have been more than 10. She was speaking with an eerie quietness to her, Being at risk is dying a little when you drop a spoon. Being at risk is looking at your brothers and sisters, wondering which one of you will go first.... Typo's eyes flicked to another screen, and there was an old black and white clip showing two women, a man's voice narrating over it We suddenly came upon two women, mother and daughter, both tall, thin, almost cadaverous. Both bowing, twisting, grimacing. I thought they were possessed until I wrote a paper describing it and it was called Huntington's.... Her slightly shaking hand went to her mouth and she couldn't look at the screens anymore, at the faces of people who knew they were going to die. She looked down at Tank, her eyes slightly watery.  
  
"Why are you showing me this? Why would the AI do this to people?"  
  
"It's a glitch."  
  
"A what?"  
  
Tank turned around in his chair to face his thin crew member, rubbing his eyes. "A glitch. This 'disease' is actually the growth of a computer virus planted into people's heads. It's original intent was for storage. The AI thought it would be a good idea to store information in people's heads without their knowing. That way they could retrieve it at any time. So basically they implanted the first streams of information, but every single time the information starts multiplying around 25 years of age, starts taking over space in the human skull and killing the brain inside. It's just like a ticking time bomb. There's no reverse effect, and the AI can't get it out of the system. It became a dominant gene and and now is being passed from human to human. If you happen to be the unfortunate child with one parent with huntington's, you have a 50% chance of getting it."  
  
Typo was shaking, seeing way too many connections here, she tried to cover it and asked slowly, "What does this have to do with me?"  
  
The operator hesitated, his eyes donwcast on the ground. "Your mother died at 26, a year after your birth. And your father... he died while you were still a fetus. Both from Huntington's."  
  
"No.. But, my father is alive. And, and.. and even if I DO have this disease, there are so many other people who have it. Why did you take me??"  
  
"I'm going to be blunt and say what you already know, Typo. You have Huntington's, that's why we couldn't train you. We feared that by putting more stuff directly into your head via computer, it would aggrivate the diseas and trigger it sooner. You have it, but you are different from the other's who do."  
  
She was still shaking her head back and forth in disbelief, her eyes glazed over and watery. She was slowly backing away from Tank and those god-awful screens, but her back hit the wall. She slid down onto her ankles, facing the ground and trying to contain her feelings, gripping onto the brown blanket tightly. Tank hadn't seen this, for he was facing the keyboard again, tapping away.  
  
"We still don't know how or why, but you started to be able to tap into the information in your head. The AI figured this out nearly the same time we did. We've been watching you for years now. But so has someone else, your 'father'. He is actually a specific type of agent who was designed to keep you under control and frightened for your life. That way you would never be able to be freed by the resistance. Three months ago, about a week before we freed you, you starting being able to -see- us. We have absolutely no idea how, but whenever we'd have one of the matrix screens watching you, you'd turn and stare right at us curiously... though from your perspective you were probably just looking at a wall, or a door, or a mirror."  
  
She lifted her head very slowly, looking at the screens. They were all videos of HER, looking right back out at them. One in particular caught her attention, and this was near the center on the left hand side. It was of the raven-haired, pierced and scarred Fiona, standing in a bathroom. She was staring right at Typo, her chest rising and falling in confusion or fright. A single tear slipped down Typo's cheek, and she rose, walking over to the screens. Tank looked up in curiousity at Typo, watching her as she put her hand right on the screen, and looked painfully at herself of three months ago.   
  
"I remember this.." she whispered softly, looking into her own eyes that stared out at her from behind the glass monitor.  
  
"What?" asked Tank, looking at Typo, then at the image of Fiona. His eyes grew wide and his jaw opened slightly, as Fiona's hand touched the opposite side of the screen and spread her fingers to match Typo's.. as though she was there right then. A thought burst through Typo's head, and she balled her hand into a fist, slamming it against the monitor,  
  
"DON'T GO HOME!!" she cried as though the image on the other side could hear here, though obviously she couldn't. "He's going to try to kill you!! Don't GO HOME!!" Tears were streaming down Typo's face for the first time ever, and Tank immediatley switched off the screens. The last Typo saw of that familiar school bathroom was a door opening and Fiona looking away from her. The image faded to blackness, yet she kept looking at the screen as though searching..  
  
"How?"  
  
"I.. I don't know.." 


	8. (Afraid)

***Hey everyone, sorry it took me so long to start the story up again, I've started school  
and dorm-life isn't as easy to get used to as you might think! *smiles* thanks for sticking  
with me!***  
  
  
  
  
Four teenagers sat in a circle on the carpeted floor of Tavie's bedroom. They'd never met one   
another before this night, and yet they were all united by a common knowledge: Fiona. The   
friend that dissapeared, yet inside both Cary and the girl had a feeling that she wasn't   
completely gone. Cole wanted to find her too, though wasn't so optomistic. Travis was mostly  
just along for the ride.   
  
"We need to get to her computer, it's the only connection I can think of that could tell us  
where she's gone."  
  
"No," Tavie pondered for a moment, running her fingers back through her hair, it sliding back  
down like liquid flame around her cheekbones and shoulders. "They're watching the house. And  
if this has a lot to do with her computer, I don't have any doubt that they've probably   
deleted everything on it."  
  
"So... did you ever think of getting a modeling contract?" Travis interjected at random.   
  
"Don't patronize me, asshole," Tavie said, her voice like syrup poured over gravel.  
  
"Ooo, I like a woman who's not afraid to defend herself.."  
  
"You like women?"  
  
"I was just about to ask you the same thing."  
  
"Ouch, with a smooth sparkling wit like that, -you- could be a superhero."  
  
"Dude, don't mess with him. He's super," Cary said with a wide-eyed sarcastic nod.  
  
Travis opened his mouth a bit to say a retort, but closed it again and made a face once he  
realized that he didn't have one and was outnumbered. Tavie promptly clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent  
herself from bursting out in laughter. Cole, the ever-practical one, smirked  
  
"Are we quite through with the childish fighting?"  
  
"I know you are but what am I?" Cary said in a nasal mock-voice.  
  
"Enough! I didn't come here to babysit."  
  
"Alright, the only other place I can think of would be at school. Every student gets an account   
there at the beginning of the year and there could be something on there. It's not too far to   
walk."  
  
The four of them got to their feet and walked (or stumbled) down the stairs to the front door  
just in time to see Tavie's parents pull out of the garage. The car swung into the street, then  
drove off, its headlights leaving a fading trail in the night.  
  
"Awww, do we have to walk?" whined Travis, crossing his arms nervously as crickets recommenced  
their chirping from the bushes.  
  
"Yes, unless you just happened to bring your inflatable car that so convenietly fit in  
the carry-on baggage compartment on the plane," Cary said bluntly, blinking at Travis.  
  
"Here," Tavie dissapeared into the garage for a moment, then came out. She trotted over to  
Travis, then held up a large box saying unenthusiastically "Cardboard box." she put it onto the ground, then held   
up a pair of wheeled shoes with two fingers, "Rollerskates," and dropped them unceremoniously   
into the open cube, a clatter sounding as they smacked against one another. "You do the math.   
If by some miracle you actually make it move, we'll be at the school." She took a step over to   
Cary, slipping her arm around the crook of his elbow "Come boys, we have a friend to find."  
The two of them started off down the sidewalk, talking with each other.  
  
"What a woman.." Travis moaned, goggle-eyed.  
  
"Travis?" Cole questioned, giving his friend a steady look and starting to walk with him about 15   
feet behind the other two.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She thinks you're a doofus."  
  
"I know..." he sighed dreamily. Rolling his eyes, Cole punched his friend in the arm.  
  
*~About 20 minutes later~*  
  
The four teenagers stood in a back alley behind the school building, rain pouring unmercillesly  
on the lot of them. The light from a nearby street lamp glowed in the night, outlining  
each fleeting drop like a faerie falling from the sky. The sound of pattering water  
mostly drowned out their voices as they huddled closely together under an overhang. Just above  
their heads was a small oblong window about 10 feet from the ground.   
  
"This is the only way in that I don't think will set off any alarms."  
  
"I still don't understand why we have to do this -now-," Travis squeeked, letting his  
eyes drift upwards towards the blackened sky.  
  
"Listen Travis," Cary said calmly, looking over at him. "We're running out of time. We  
might even be already too late, but we won't know unless we try. I'm not going to give   
up on Fi now, and I hope that you might think the same. We might already be being watched,  
and the longer we wait the worse it will get. If we don't do this now, it might mean her  
death, or maybe -our- condemming."  
  
There was a sound of two hands being brought together in a clap, that echoed against  
the close walls of the alley. Then another, each a few seconds between. The three boys  
looked back to see Tavie, her face a quiet shadow, but her eyes bright.  
  
"Let's do this."  
  
She glanced around for a moment then shrugged her wet hair behind her shoulders, staring up  
at the window. Moving over to where she was positioned under it, she bent her knees  
then sprung up, catching her hands on the outside windowsill. Bringing her leg up, in a painfully  
flexible and somewhat physically impossible way, she hoisted herself up enough for just   
a moment to be able to turn the handle on the window and have it swing open. She pulled herself   
up, and slid through the window, easilly fitting through then dropping down onto the tile  
flooring on the opposite side. Cary examined the jump and bit his lower lip, then followed  
Tavie's example. He had a more difficult time fitting through the small window, and he had to  
turn to let his feet through first. Looking down at the upturned faces of Cole and Travis, he  
said as he dissapeared  
"Meet us by the front entrance in an hour."  
  
"How come I don't-"  
  
"Oh shut up Travis," Cole sighed "You know neither of us are small enough to fit though that  
window."  
  
"Go go gadget, skinny!" Travis cried, bringing his elbows together and squeezing himself  
together as much as possible, his face pinched up like he'd just eaten a lemon. He remained  
there for a moment, then stood back up again, his face deadpan. "You're right. Let's go  
around front to wait."  
  
Cary had already let himself slide down onto the opposite side of the window, landing  
softly on his feet. In the darkness, he was just barely able to make out a line of mirrors  
to his left, and a few white flimsy walls.  
"Is this the bathroom?" asked Cary, his voice bouncing off the empty walls.  
  
"Yes," Tavie responded simply, letting her hands travel over the wall to the door. Her  
male counterpart followed, seeing his shadowy image trail him in the mirrors. The girl  
spread her palms on the smooth surface of the door, and pushed it outward into the large  
hallway.   
  
"How many people go here?" asked Cary in a hushed whisper. Tavie glanced over her shoulder  
to look at him for a moment before responding in a normal voice as though she wasn't worried  
that anyone would hear them,  
  
"Nearly 2000. The classes are difficult, but not if you study."   
  
"Ah, nothing focuses the mind like the thought of being shot in the morning."  
  
Tavie smirked softly and started walking off down the tiled hallway, keeping her hand on the   
wall to maintain a sense of direction. The only lighting was the occasional red  
glow above a doorway spelling out 'EXIT'. "Here, if we cut across the pool bleachers it'll  
save a lot of time."  
  
"You guys have a pool??"  
  
"Don't you swim?" Her hand found itself on a familiar handle, which she attempted  
turning. It joggled slightly, but was apparently locked. Before Cary could do anything, she  
pulled out an earring and began ticking at the lock.  
  
"Yes, but never on a team."  
  
There was a click sound, and the door swung open with a creaking screech. Immediatley  
the smell of over-chlorinated water wafted out and encircled the two. In front of them  
was a flight of stairs that they promptly ascended, Tavie much more sure of herself than the   
other. They emerged onto a mezzanine about 50 feet above the rather impressive swimming  
pool. There were lights on underneath the water that caused eerie white shadows to dance  
across the walls and the two teenagers like they were alive. Her hips brushing on the railing of   
the very edge of the balcony in front of the cascading upward seats, Tavie suddenly slipped on something   
unseen and fell backwards with a tiny cry. Cary caught her under her arms just before she hit   
the cement, and stood her back up on her feet.  
"Thanks.." Tavie said lightly, turning to face him with a little smile. Cary was surprised at this,  
having expected her to just brush him off. He'd figured she was the sort of person who cared, but   
wouldn't outwardly show it in a soft way. His hand was still lingering on her waist, and when  
she didn't brush it off, he felt all logic sort of slip out of his head and both were lost  
in each other's eyes. Tavie took a step forward and brushed her knuckles up across his jawline,  
so close enough for him to feel her breath curl up across his lips and disperse chillingly.  
Tavie suddenly blinked, grabbing his shoulder gently, but not moving anything else but her  
eyes, which were glancing around down by the pool with a suspicious look.  
"Did you hear that?" she hissed between her teeth. Cary twitched slightly, about to move his  
head to look, but Tavie gripped his shoulder hard, "Don't move."  
  
"Hear what?" Cary asked, his voice low.  



End file.
